


Follow My Lead

by blcklstr2020 (castlenova)



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlenova/pseuds/blcklstr2020
Summary: This is a pre-Blacklist story, following a younger Raymond Reddington, on the run and drawn into a mystery in Marrakech by a beautiful young woman he meets in a hotel bar... Red/OC. Starting off pretty GA/T , will definitely move to E in the next few chapters.
Relationships: Raymond Reddington/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been hurriedly binging this series over the past few months and, even though I haven't written fanfiction in forever, felt compelled to take on a bit of a challenge for myself. Long story short, and I'm sure people might throw stuff at me here, Liz annoys me. At first, I was tentatively half-on the shipper train but now, as I start Season 7, I'm done. And for some reason, I started concocting this 'Younger Red/Other female character' narrative in my head. Hopefully, you don't hate it...
> 
> Early warning: It will get raunchier, most definite E rating.

_Marrakech, July 1996._

The bar was a typical hotel bar, a curving structure around a long counter where one and occasionally two young men scurried from end to end.

It wasn't overly busy and he liked that. It meant he could stay alert and keep watch on his surroundings.

It was more of a business hotel, though in Marrakech, "business" was probably a very broad term. But most of those in situ were dressed in suits and ties, some pulled loose or discarded but all giving the air of some kind of legitimacy.

Raymond Reddington, however, sat at the bar, nursing his scotch, clad in a pair of loose-fitting slacks and a dark polo shirt, far more suited to the oppressive heat that would hit him like a hairdryer as soon as he stepped outside. A pair of sunglasses and a Red Sox baseball cap sat on the counter ready to complete his look of 'spent tourist'.

His contact was late – not unusual for Raji, who always tended to hit the hashish pipe a bit hard before their meetings – to steel his nerves, he'd confided once.

"Raji, if you're doing what you're supposed to be doing, you need never steel your nerves to meet with me," Red had told him.

"And if I'm not doing as I'm supposed to?" Raji asked cautiously. Red had laughed, brushing his hand through his hair, by this point damp with sweat.

"You'd better have a Pulitzer winning story as to why," he'd replied with a dangerous smile.

Red knew Raji was impulsive, he didn't think things through, but so far he hadn't done anything to warrant cutting him loose.

Still, he'd never been this late before and Red was beginning to worry. So much so that he didn't notice the woman who sat down next to him until she spoke.

"I can't figure it out," she said in a soft English accent that immediately had Red running through known agency operatives in his head. His panic didn't show, he was too smart for that.

"Figure what out?"

"If you're trying to stand out, or blend in."

He looked at her, studiously taking in her features. She was devastatingly beautiful. Long, soft tresses of chocolate brown hair, with flecks of fair and blond, framed her face which, for some reason and maybe it was the accent, had a hint of refinery, her dark, soulful eyes contrasted by quirked red lips, her choice of lipstick color only adding to the mischievousness he could read off them.

"Who says I'm trying to do either? I'm just a tourist gasping for a scotch and some respite from the grueling heat of this city," he tipped what was left in his glass down the hatch and signaled the bartender.

He glanced across the bar and tapped his watch twice before turning back to his new acquaintance.

"So, blend in then..." she said, eyeing him curiously. He laughed loudly, too loud for it not to sound fake but no one around them seemed to notice.

"Bill Kershaw," he offered his hand.

"Lily Bloom," she replied, taking his hand, and he had to stop himself from snorting at the obviously fake name.

"So what brings you to Marrakech, Mr Kershaw?" she asked, tracing a finger around the rim of her wine glass in a way that made him take a deep breath before answering.

"I feel I'm a... citizen of the world. And please call me Bill."

She smiled and looked around the room.

"I see your point. It's a bit like the United Nations in here – French, Italian, Arab, American...I suppose the lack of extradition laws are a big attraction..."

Red frowned.

"Extradition laws, that's an unusual concern for someone on holiday," he probed, already feeling like he knew the answers to any questions he might have had.

"Who says I'm on holiday?"

He nodded and raised his eyebrows, looking around once again to see if Raji had shown his face. But there was no sign of him. Something was wrong.

"You keep looking around, are you waiting for someone?"

He smirked and turned back to her.

"Well, given the fact that I'm sitting next to a stunning woman in an almost indecently see-through sundress, I think any answer I might give would be ill-advised, don't you?" He held her stare and smiled when she pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows in what was either humored interest or humored exasperation.

He hazarded a guess that it was the former.

***

Just over an hour later, Red paid the bar tab, insisting on putting Lily's drinks on it.

"You really don't have to do that," she protested but he waved her protests off. Despite his being on guard, he had enjoyed their little interlude, flirting openly with a woman who, even if she knew who he was, had no issue with flirting back. He knew when he was being played but, whether that was the end game or not, this woman was attracted to him and, maybe in spite of the danger, he was attracted to her too.

"You still haven't told me what you're doing here," he said as they made their way to the lobby, dusk basking the street outside in a kind of purple glow.

"Neither have you," she said pointedly and he raised his eyebrows at her in what she must have construed as a warning because she quickly glanced around before speaking again.

"It's a rather personal matter," she said quietly and he sensed a change in her demeanor.

"I apologize, forgive my incessant curiosity," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. She smiled.

"That said..." he began, knowing that this might turn out to be the single worst idea he'd had in a while, "...I've got some good friends in this city. I might be able to help, depending on...the matter."

She looked at him then, head tilted in interest. He held her gaze, said no more, the ball was in her court. She finally broke eye contact and looked away. Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with him again.

"Are you free for dinner?" she asked, stepping closer to him as a bell boy pushed by with a giant trolley of luggage. Red was assaulted by the smell of her perfume.

"Right now? No. But if you can give me two hours, even one-and-a-half, I can be all yours after that," he offered. There was no way he was meeting this woman again before hearing what Dembe had dug up on her. She smiled and nodded.

"Sounds good."

He gave her the address for a small couscous restaurant he knew about three blocks away. The owner was a close acquaintance and he would call ahead to brief him on the situation, providing Dembe didn't deliver an evacuation order in the next 15 minutes.

***

_I realize that with the timeframe I've given it might be a bit early in his on-the-run days for Dembe to be in the picture. But I'm taking some poetic license! Love it? Hate it? Let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red learns Lily's real identity and, despite his better judgment and Dembe's advice, decides to keep their dinner engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time but Chapter 3 will make up for it! Thanks for the feedback so far - always happy to hear people's thoughts!

"There is no Lily Bloom..." Dembe said as Red climbed into the back of the rental car they'd picked up, a slightly battered, seen-better-days Renault that sputtered as the engine turned over. But it blended in and that was all that mattered.

"That's a stunner," he deadpanned as he pulled off the baseball cap and ran his hand through his thick mop of hair. 

Could do with a trim, he thought absently, as he listened. 

"...but there is a Sophie Wilkins..." Dembe continued as he pulled forward into the busy evening traffic. 

"And she is...?" Red asked though he had already guessed the answer. 

"MI5." 

"Of course she is," he sighed, mentally kissing his dinner plans goodbye. He thought back to the bar. If she knew who she was she hadn't shown it. Most people in that line of work could spot him from five miles away and break a hip trying to get a better look. She was either oblivious or as cool as ice. 

"We should leave. Now." Dembe was the voice of reason as ever. Red knew he was right, but he was intrigued. There was a reason she'd struck up a conversation with him, a reason she'd suggested dinner, and he didn't think it was to make an arrest. 

And even if she did, the extradition laws were on his side... 

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, suddenly making sense of their earlier exchange. 

"What?" Dembe asked. 

"Dembe, we're not leaving just yet. I've got a dinner date and I couldn't possibly disappoint a lovely lady from MI5..." 

Dembe raised his eyes to heaven, glancing in the rearview mirror to look at his friend grinning happily to himself. 

"Your libido will get us all killed. Or worse, arrested!" 

Red chuckled and glanced out the window, watching a much different world to that which he was used to, flying past the glass. 

* 

A long, cold shower and a shave later and Red was changed and on the phone to Maz, his restaurant owner. 

"...So you're completely full?... Apart from me... Excellent, glad to hear it...Maz, one thing, and I'll make sure I compensate you accordingly, no walk-ins tonight...Yes, thank you...See you shortly." 

Red dropped the phone into its cradle and picked up his scotch glass. 

"I still think this is a bad idea," Dembe said from the couch where he was reading a Moroccan newspaper. 

"Almost definitely," Red agreed, flicking a bug off his navy linen shirt. Dembe flapped the magazine shut and looked around at him. 

"Then why? Why aren't we on a flight out of here?" 

Red sat and crossed his ankle over his knee, his light grey slacks a contrast against the dark shirt. 

"Because she wants something; better yet, she needs something and it's not me, it's my help." 

"Raymond, she's MI5, whatever she needs your help for..." 

"...is nothing good, I agree. But having someone in MI5 indebted to me wouldn't be the worst outcome of this trip, given that Raji still hasn't emerged from whatever hole he's hiding in." 

Dembe sighed and picked his magazine up again. 

"I suspect it's probably a very deep one." 

Red frowned, worried his lip between his teeth. 

"Yes, that's my concern too. We'll start looking tomorrow, for now, let's concentrate on not getting killed by a rogue MI5 agent..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red learns Sophie's true reason for seeking him out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who've reviewed so far! A longer chapter here and the next one should be a pretty long one too. I've written quite a bit of this so should be able to post updates for a little while, while I'm writing the rest.
> 
> Reviews make me happy :D

It was dark by the time they reached Maz's restaurant, the Marrakech nightlife was in its infancy and Red knew it would soon be raging. He was always careful about imbibing in places like this. You never knew who might be biding their time, waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

He shook hands and embraced Maz on entry, asking if his date had arrived yet.

"Not yet Red. Or _Bill_ should I say..."

Red laughed and decided to wait at the door for her, rather than risk having his cover blown by the staff if Maz stepped away from the entry.

As it turned out, she wasn't too far away, walking through the door just a few minutes later. She wore black, tight three-quarter length pants with a sheer white, sleeveless blouse leaving little to the imagination in terms of what she wore underneath. Red had to force himself to blink, tearing his eyes away from what looked like lace peering over the edge of her lapel.

"Waiting long?" she asked with brows raised. He shook his head.

"Not long at all. Shall we?" He held a hand out, giving Maz a nod as they passed through to where the proprietor had laid out a table in a back corner, not entirely private but certainly not as open as other spots.

Maz held Lily's chair as she sat then disappeared without taking a drinks order. Red gave her a reassuring nod and, quite soon, the owner was back, brandishing a bottle of red wine and chatting excitedly about its vintage and how he came to find himself in surprise possession of eight cases of it.

"Reserved for special guests and friends," he winked at Lily.

"And which is Mr Kershaw?" Lily asked innocently. Maz, to his credit, didn't falter from his pour.

"Bill," he said with gusto, "is a rare breed of man who qualifies as both." He placed an almost fatherly hand on Red's shoulder. Red smiled warmly at him, he was very fond of their inimitable host.

Red proceeded to test the wine, smacking his lips in delight.

"Like heaven in a glass," he declared and Maz chuckled, walking away. Lily took her own taste of the wine and nodded in appreciation. He smiled, leaning back in his chair and taking another sip.

"Well, _Bill Kershaw_ is a very popular man, it seems," she said pointedly and Red smiled and cleared his throat.

"Why don't we cut the bullshit, Ms Wilkins?"

She tried to hide her surprise but failed miserably. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands grabbing hers tightly.

"You knew who I was when you sat at the bar earlier and, thanks to my associate, I now know who you are. So tell me, what is MI5 doing in Morocco? Because you're not looking for me... As far as the intelligence agencies of the world know, I'm in Bermuda. Truth is I wouldn't be caught dead in the place. But I don't intend to be caught dead here either..." he finished with a warning tone.

She didn't try to pull her hands away. To any onlooker, they would have looked like a couple having an intense romantic discussion. It occurred to him that she had changed her perfume, her scent was different from this afternoon. It also occurred to him that she was holding eye contact without any seeming fear of coming face to face with the "most dangerous man in America".

"I'm not on official business," she said simply, "And I'm not carrying a weapon so you can release my hands, I'm not going to shoot you under the table. I need your help."

Red eyed her, cautiously.

"Where do you think I'm hiding it?" she shrugged, gesturing to the tight pants and sheer blouse. He sighed and released her hands, stroking his thumbs over them in a brief soothing gesture.

"And just what is it that you think I can help you with?" he asked as Maz returned with two dishes. He briefly explained what they were and disappeared again.

She cleared her throat.

"I'm conducting an unofficial investigation into human trafficking for the sex trade," she said quietly and Red ran his tongue over his front teeth.

"Why is it unofficial?"

"Because my sister's life depends on it," she said quickly and Red took a breath as he watched her face for any sign of deception.

"I don't know anyone in that line of business," he said, pursing his lips, "but I might know someone who would have a way in. Tell me what happened."

Maz arrived with more food and a confused look as to why they were not eating what was already on the table.

"Sorry Maz, my lovely date just told me she doesn't believe in sex before marriage. Can you believe it?"

Sophie choked on the sip of wine she'd just taken and Maz raised an eyebrow and his hands as if to ask 'what?' Red shook his head.

"I know, and I mean...look at her! It is the epitome of unfairness my friend," he sighed, "Oh well, not to worry, I'm sure I'll find my appetite again soon. You can leave the entrées."

He smiled and Maz put down his plates before scurrying away, risking a glance back once he was at the other end of the restaurant.

"Was that really necessary?" she sounded slightly annoyed.

"Yes. Maz is like a father to me. Which means he doesn't like hearing things like that so it should keep him out of the way long enough for you to tell me what's going on without interruption. Oh, have some of the beef, it's to die for."

She gave him a pointed look and he swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair and smiling apologetically.

"Sorry. Please, go on."

She took another sip of her wine and did pile some food onto her plate, if only just to save face with Maz.

"My sister is a politics graduate, as part of her studies she was placed on a work internship at the UK embassy in Marrakech.

"Was Baghdad unavailable?" Red asked drily. She shook her head, obviously equally as skeptical about the assignment.

"She came over here in February. At first, she seemed to like it, then as time went on, her calls began to decrease in frequency and when we did talk she would cry down the phone about wanting to come home. My parents said no, that she couldn't expect to get anywhere in life if she wasn't able to dig in and tough things out..."

Red listened with a certain feeling of Deja-Vous. His own father might have delivered the exact same rebuttal to him all those years ago.

"About ten days ago, she didn't turn up for work. She had me listed as her point of contact and her supervisor called me, said there was no sign of Hannah and asking had I heard from her."

Red swallowed, not liking the sound of the story, and taking a mouthful of wine.

"I did some digging through our files in work, I tried to call Hannah, I even called her landlord which was a good thing in the end because he told me he had seen her the previous night, getting into a car with a young boy about her age. It seems she never came back after that. When I dug into our work records, I found that kidnapping and sales into the sex trade are a pretty big export here..." she closed her eyes and Red felt an unnerving desire to place his hand across hers on the table.

"About four days ago, my parents received ransom demands. They thought it was a joke at first and I had to explain that Hannah had gone off the grid. They refused to pay and...I agreed with them. You know better than I do that they're not going to return her if we pay."

Red shifted in his seat

"No, they're not. And I resent that you would even remotely compare me to these cockroaches. I'm a lot of things depending on who you listen to, and I've done a lot of deplorable things Ms Wilkins, but selling kids into the sex trade is not, and never will be, one of them."

His voice sounded violent, he couldn't help it. He had been offered a buy-in to a similar business six months earlier in Eastern Europe. He had gained the ringleader's trust, managed to meet him alone, hear the details, learn the logistics and the financial figures. And once he knew where to look to find the many scared caged-up girls, and some boys, he'd put a bullet first in the guy's groin, followed by two in the chest. And he hadn't lost one minute of sleep over it. Instead, he had fed the information through, anonymously, to local law enforcement who took huge praise in the press for their efforts.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest..." Sophie began but faltered. How did you apologize for insulting someone who killed people without a second thought?

Red pretended not to hear: "I can help you. But if I get even a whisper of a hint that you're even _thinking_ of betraying me..."

"... I'm dead. I know," she replied sarcastically.

Red shook his head: "No. But your sister is. Because I'll be gone. It gives me zero pleasure to think of a kid in whatever rat-infested hole they've got her in, but if it's a case of choosing her life or my freedom, there's only one answer for me."

He felt slightly sick saying the words but he had to hammer it home to her – cross me and it's game over.

She was nodding her head: "Understood."

He took a deep breath, mulling over her story in his head.

"Ok, first things first, eat. Before Maz excommunicates me. Once my place on his wall of fame is secure, we'll talk shop."

She nodded and said 'thank you' so quietly that he almost didn't hear the break in her voice. Almost.

*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red learns more about Sophie's dilemma and tries to deal with his own growing attraction to her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter again here to lead into the next section. Hopefully, people are getting into it. Would love to hear people's thoughts or feedback.

They agreed to move the conversation to the bar at Sophie's hotel. Red handed a wad of notes to Maz as they exited, complimenting him on a spectacular feast, as always.

Maz smiled and shrugged in gratitude, before catching Sophie's arm.

"He is a good man, decent, honest. I hope you change your mind," he said sternly and Sophie frowned at him. Suddenly Red remembered his earlier ruse to send Maz scarpering from the table and laughed.

"Ok Maz, time to go. Thank you, my friend, I'll see you again soon."

Quickly he guided Sophie out the door as she racked her brains in confusion.

"What was that about?"

"Maz's idea of a joke..." he said pointedly before steering her to the waiting Renault and Dembe, who looked less than impressed to be coming face to face with MI5.

Red let her in first and clambered after her.

"Dembe, Sophie Wilkins. Sophie, Dembe."

"Dembe...?" she probed.

"Just Dembe," the driver said firmly, casting a disapproving eye in Red's direction. Red gave Dembe the hotel address and, over the course of the traffic-ridden drive, filled his trusted confidant on the story his dinner date had shared with him.

"Your friend doesn't trust me," she said as he handed her a drink. They'd decided a corner table was a better conversation space than at the bar. The bartender, spotting the two of them together again, gave him a wink which Red returned. If the staff wanted to see him as a tourist who just happened to get lucky that was fine by him.

"No, he doesn't. Neither do I," he said pointedly, and she nodded her head in resignation.

"I trust you," she said finally and Red raised an eyebrow, sipping his scotch and setting down the glass.

"And that's why I don't trust you. You appear to be a bad judge of character..."

She chuckled and he smirked, swilling the scotch in the bottom of his glass.

"You're a strange individual, Mr Reddington," she said quietly and he frowned in curiosity.

"How's that?"

She sipped her wine and grimaced slightly, prompting him to ask if she wanted something else. But she shook her head, took another sip, and nodded in appreciation. It had just needed a second chance.

"You know, we're taught, I'm sure in every law enforcement agency across the world, about you and your crimes."

He stifled a laugh at that.

"No, I'm serious," she said.

"I'm sure you are," he remarked, laughing.

She laughed too, not because it was funny, but because it was absurd that after hearing nothing but fire and brimstone about the most hunted man in possibly the world, she was sitting having a drink with him in a hotel bar. After having dinner with him beforehand. There was no section in the MI5 handbook for this scenario. She took another sip of her wine and looked at him, found him watching her intently, possibly still looking for her gun but it seemed simultaneously more and less intense than that. She placed her glass down, crossed one leg over the other, not missing the way his eyes dipped momentarily to watch them.

"You know, when I realized who you were at the bar, I didn't think 'oh my god, that's Raymond Reddington, he's dangerous, he's killed people.' I thought that...you didn't look as I would have expected."

Red frowned at that, pointing out that his picture was on every crime database in the world.

"I know what you look like. But I didn't account for how you would look."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he said, watching her intently as the train of thought throttled through her head. She was an insanely beautiful woman, he mused.

"There's a lot of things that don't come across in a black-and-white photograph. The slight wispiness of your hair, that almost permanent smirk you seem to have planted on your face, the kindness in your eyes..."

She paused when she saw him, eyes raised to heaven, staring at a stray tuft of hair that had fallen over his forehead, and she laughed thinking that he looked so boyish that there was no way he could be this evil, ruthless traitor that everyone said he was. He shrugged when she laughed at him.

"It could do with a trim," he admitted stoically and she smiled. There was silence for a moment before she continued.

"When I looked at you I thought...first I thought 'there's a man who could help me'. And when I looked closer I thought, 'and he looks like a man who would'."

Red looked at her, unsure of how to respond. She'd pegged him perfectly, he felt a shiver down his spine as he thought of how on the nose her assessment of him was.

"What is it that you do for MI5 again?" he asked, shifting in his seat, slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm a profiler."

"I might have guessed," he said with raised eyebrows. He picked up his glass and threw back the remaining scotch before standing, "I'll get some refills. And then we need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feedback is very welcome. Next chapter coming soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red asks Dembe to find out more about Sophie as they make a plan to track down her sister...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating kicks up a notch here - have gone E to be safe, it may only be M at this point.

BL*BL*BL*BL*BL

The ransom demands had been made via phone to Sophie's parents. She'd tried but had been unable to trace the number the call was made from. The deadline for the ransom hadn't yet passed. The kidnappers had promised to call the day before to line up the transfer.

"They were quite certain of getting their money," Red pointed out.

"They hadn't counted on calling my parents..." Sophie muttered and he tilted his head at her indignation. Something seemed off but he pushed the thought to the back of his head.

"Did he give a name of any kind? Do you have a recording?" he asked. She shook her head, it wasn't something her parents had thought to do.

"I think he referred to himself as Vasco," she added. Red frowned.

"You think? You didn't hear it?"

"No. My parents called me after and told me what they could remember," she shrugged. Red pursed his lips – something didn't add up here. He stood and moved to the bar where Dembe sat mulling over something brown and unappealing. He stared straight ahead as he spoke.

"Did you find out anything else about Ms Wilkins, other than her work history?" he asked quietly. Dembe shook his head.

"No, do you want me to?"

"Yes. Specifically family. Try hunt down something on her sister – Hannah Wilkins. And set up a meeting with Hassan for tomorrow, we need to find Raji but we might just kill two birds with one stone through Hassan."

He was about to return to the table when Dembe caught his arm.

"Raymond, trust your gut. I know she's beautiful and I can see that you like her. But..."

"Dembe, the information?" he said pointedly and Dembe sighed, knowing that his friend would follow his own instincts no matter what he said. He swallowed the last of his drink and moved towards the door. Red took his seat back at the table.

"I've asked Dembe to get in touch with a contact of mine here. He might be able to steer us in the right direction," Red said, picking up his scotch and throwing it back.

"I'm coming with you," she said firmly and he laughed.

"I expected nothing less from a fearless MI5 agent," he ribbed. She bit her lip in thought.

"I don't get your scorn for law enforcement, weren't you a decorated Naval officer?" she asked and his thoughts shot back to six years earlier, the beginning of the end of his intelligence career. He curved his mouth into a cynical smirk.

"How long have you been in MI5?" he asked in reply and she told him three years. He nodded knowingly, "When you're there long enough and rock a few boats, you'll start to understand my scorn."

She looked down at her wine glass, thinking he had a point. Even already, she'd ignored one too many things, watched others do the same. Was it an occupational hazard? With so many secrets flying around, was it inevitable that lines would blur to the extent of uncertainty?

"And be mindful, just because someone is on the side of the law...doesn't mean they're the good guys," he added.

Realizing that both glasses were empty, he offered to grab another round.

"I think, Mr Reddington, I might call it a night. I feel like tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

He nodded and stood, offering his hand to help her stand and finding her in close proximity to him once again. He swallowed and flashed her a small smirk before stepping across to clear the bar tab, for the second time that day.

He walked her to the elevator in the lobby.

"Mr Reddington, my room number is 212," she said. Off his surprised look, she added: "Could you call me when you know what time you're meeting your contact?"

He nodded his head, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed to have misread her intentions.

"By the way," he said as she reached for the call button, "Call me Red."

"Red," she tried the name out, "Ok, then I insist you call me Sophie."

"Sophie," he nodded, "I can do that."

She nodded and the elevator doors opened. Stepping inside, she smiled briefly and held his gaze until the closing doors broke it. Red swallowed, stood stock still for a moment, then turned towards the exit.

He would never admit it to Dembe but...whether she was lying or not, he was in trouble.

BL*BL*BL*BL*BL

Dembe had managed to arrange a meeting with Hassan for midday the next day, Red could already feel the baking sun and resultant sweat to the point that he almost opted for a cold shower before bed.

There was no fresh information on the Wilkins family but Dembe had only just put out some feelers. Red didn't expect any news for at least 24 hours – long enough to get into further trouble, but short enough, hopefully, to not cause too much damage.

"If you think she's playing you, why are we still here?" Dembe asked as Red grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge of their apartment.

"I don't think she's playing me. But she's not telling me the full truth," Red said, perching on the arm of the chair opposite Dembe, "She's affected by this, there's no doubt but...something about the way she spoke about her parents didn't add up. I don't know what it is but there's something she's not being honest about and I think we need to know why."

Dembe nodded and told his friend, once again, to be careful.

"You know Dembe, if you say something over and over and over, it tends to lose all coherence," he shrugged.

"Or maybe it just might sink into a thick skull," Dembe replied without looking up.

Red smirked, then waved his hand dismissively, sauntering out into the hallway and climbing the stairway to the second floor of the apartment. The apartment was devoid of character. It belonged to an old acquaintance of Red's who used it when he visited the city on business. He had a taste for the prostitutes that frequented Rue Yougoslavie which ran perpendicular to the street they were on so it was practical for his needs.

The second floor had two bedrooms in addition to the one downstairs that Dembe had taken on account of it being closest to the door should they experience a rude awakening. It was unlikely. Despite the abundance of illegalities taking place right outside the door, the police tended to turn a blind eye and did not frequent the area as much as one would expect.

Red pulled the door shut on the master bedroom and stepped through to the adjoining bathroom to perform his short but regimented nightly ritual before switching off the light and stepping back into the bedroom.

Stripping down to just his boxers, he crawled under the thin sheet – he'd pulled off the rest of the bedding on their first insufferably hot night there. He sighed as his mind ran to the striking young English woman who was, likely, lying in a similar bed, in a similar state of undress, a few miles away.

He felt himself harden at the thought and he groaned in frustration. This was the last thing he needed, infatuation to blind him from the task at hand. Scrunching his eyes shut, he took a few deep breaths to try to calm his wayward erection but it was no good. He tried to think of horrible things that might plummet his blood pressure but nothing came to mind but the sight of her, the white lace of her bra peeking out from behind the sheer white blouse she'd worn that evening – she had to have noticed his reaction, she was in the wrong job if she hadn't.

Shaking his head, he concentrated on breathing again – in and out, in and out – this was never going to work, his addled mind picturing a very different in-and-out motion with his lovely English colleague.

"Fuck," he muttered as he let his hand trail down his body, grasping the bulge in his boxers and forcing him to stifle a moan. The bedroom was right above the living area and Red was sure he could hear the TV chirping out sound below.

He seized the opportunity to seize himself in hand, sliding it inside his boxers to wrap his fingers around his thick shaft. His mouth opened at the sensation and he slowly began to stroke himself, a clear picture of Sophie in his head, her smile, those lips, her long hair...he imagined clasping a handful of it and pulling her toward him and his hips jerked into his hand at the thought. He tried to imagine how she might look when she came, whether she was loud or frantically silent, whether she preferred to be on top...

He felt his balls tightening and he came with a jolt, semen spitting onto his stomach, as he exhaled, feeling relieved. Reaching carefully toward the nightstand, he drew a tissue from a bedside box and cleaned himself up, crumpling the tissue and tossing it haphazardly in the direction of a bin he had seen earlier.

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and hoped that sleep might finally come.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should point out that I have never been to Marrakech so local or cultural references are purely from Wikipedia/Google etc. There's, no doubt, some poetic license taken. Hopefully, it doesn't offend or affect anyone's reading/enjoyment of the piece.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red, Dembe and Sophie head to meet Hassan. Red makes a dangerous promise to Sophie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reviews so far. This is a bit of a slow burn but once it starts burning, it's pretty hot. At least IMHO!
> 
> Double posting today - am simultaneously uploading on FF so decided to have both at the same point :-)

Dembe appeared to be gone when Red got up the following morning. Frowning and rubbing sleep from his eyes, he picked up the phone and dialed Sophie's hotel.

"Room 212 please," he said sleepily and waited.

"Red?" her voice sounded panicked.

"Yeah, something wrong?"

"No, no, I just...I'm feeling agitated. I didn't sleep well last night and could really do with a cup of coffee."

Red nodded, admitting that he too had had trouble sleeping, but omitting the reason for his restlessness.

"Got a meeting with my contact at midday. It's a bit of a drive so Dembe and I will pick you up at the hotel at 11.15. Ok?"

"Yes, I'll be ready. Thank you."

Red nodded and hung up the phone, he never was one for platitudes of farewell.

Now, where the heck was Dembe?

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Dembe returned about 20 minutes later, carrying fresh coffee and a paper bag, the contents of which smelled divine.

Red was dressed, this time in darker chinos and a white shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. He was trying, in vain, to pull some hair back out of his eyes. Dembe chuckled as he watched.

"You really do need a haircut Raymond," he laughed.

"I know, pretty soon I'm going to have to start wearing a sweatband, I'll be like Bjorn Borg..." he said, laughing. The truth was that he kind of liked unleashing the beast that was his inexplicable hair growth, it made him feel young and carefree again. He'd shaved it all off on entering the Navy and had had to keep it cut short, but once he went on the run he felt like one of the most basic rejections of his life in law enforcement was to let his hair grow back.

Dembe was right though, it was becoming unruly at this point. Shrugging, he walked to the bench where his friend was unwrapping a selection of savory baking treats. He grabbed what looked like a bear-claw and the larger of the two coffees.

As he ate and sipped his coffee, he waited to see if Dembe had any news.

"Why don't you just ask me?" Dembe finally said and Red held up his hands in surrender.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to. You're perched like a hen on an egg..."

Red frowned at how well his friend could read his moods. He was the only one but even at that, it was almost one too many.

"Well...did any of your hens...lay?" he asked pointedly and Dembe shook his head.

"Not yet. I have a few more people to reach out to, I'll try them before we meet Hassan. Have you called her?" Dembe was yet to refer to 'her' by name. Red could understand his trepidation. Were she male, Dembe knew, and Red would admit, that they'd probably be in Budapest by now.

"Told her we'd pick her up at 11.15," he said, scoffing down the last bite of his pastry, washing it down with a mouthful of coffee.

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Sophie was ready and waiting, watching from a window in the lobby for the car which she was quite certain she'd recognize from the night before, despite it being dark.

She'd tossed and turned for most of the night, sleep eluding her as she interrogated herself as to what she was doing, teaming up with a master criminal instead of calling in a tip-off. She'd berated herself then, she knew exactly why she was doing it. Because she'd been there for two days and hadn't had so much as a thread of a lead to follow. She'd needed someone with some pull in the underworld, it was as simple as that. She still couldn't believe she'd walked into the bar and come face-to-face with Raymond Reddington though – of all the inside men to find...

He had a bucket load of charm, she couldn't deny it. And he was a very attractive man. It was one of the things she and a fellow student had remarked upon, quietly between themselves, when studying his case in training.

"I'd let him sell my secrets any day of the week and twice on Sundays," Olivia had muttered quietly and Sophie had chuckled in agreement. Life worked in strange ways, it seemed...

She spotted the car pulling in to the curb a few meters down from the hotel and grabbed her shoulder bag, making her way outside.

Red was standing at the passenger door when she got to it and he reached over to open the back door for her.

"Good morning," he said brightly and she smiled and returned the greeting, before climbing into the car and greeting Dembe.

"Hello Miss Wilkins," Dembe said politely and Red smiled as he pulled his door shut.

"You didn't sleep?" Red said knowingly.

"No, not really."

"Me neither," he admitted and Dembe cast a sideways glance at him that Red couldn't quite decipher. Dembe pulled out and indicated to cross the traffic and escape down a side road. It was a maneuver that would have been totally illegal in any civilized country but Dembe pulled it off with ease, ignoring the symphony of honking horns.

"So who are we meeting?" she asked in a businesslike tone.

"A contact of mine, a friend in fact. His name is Hassan. He's in the know about a lot of things and what he lacks in knowledge, he makes up for with his own web of contacts. If he doesn't know anything, I guarantee he'll know someone that does."

She nodded and bit back a yawn, remarking instead that it sounded promising.

"Tell me more about your sister," Red said suddenly and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I told you the important stuff. She's 22, not a party animal or anything like that. Was always a good student, much better than me. She studied hard, knew what she wanted to do, and got her just rewards for it..."

Red turned in his seat to look at her, spotting the glassiness in her eyes. He still felt she was being untruthful about something but either she was a very good actress or she was genuinely upset by the whole situation. He was about to speak when she continued.

"All I could hear in my head last night as I tried to sleep were her cries on the phone about wanting to come home and I hate myself for not getting on a plane right then and there and coming out to get her."

Red took a breath, reaching a hand in to rest on her knee, and shaking her lightly.

"Hey, look at me," he said, waiting for her to lift her chin, "We'll find her, ok? This isn't your fault. I need you to be calm and follow my lead. Can you do that?"

She nodded her head and he gave her knee a brief squeeze.

"Good," he said, twisting back to face forward. He didn't even need to look at Dembe to see that worry on his face, and this time, he couldn't blame his friend for the concern. He'd made a promise that there was no guarantee he could fulfill. He just had to hope that they weren't too late.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make me happy :-)  
> I'd love to hear people's thoughts...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red's contact gives them a solid lead that calls for a little undercover work...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so the plot kicks more into gear from now on. Thanks to all who have reviewed so far - please don't be shy! :D

The heat in the car was beginning to turn oppressive when Dembe made a turn down a barely marked dirt road which seemed to lead into nothing but desert. Sophie squinted through the windows, trying to find some sign of life.

“You haven’t dug me a grave out here by any chance, have you?”

Red emitted a loud guffaw in the front.

“Ha! Wouldn’t be very hospitable of us, would it?” he chuckled, “Hassan goes unchecked in his operations largely because he’s off the grid. A long way off the grid. I suppose you could say that he’s very much in the underground.”

Sophie tipped her head in understanding, that was why she couldn’t see anything.

A few minutes later, Dembe stopped the car alongside a red brick outhouse that blended almost entirely into its surroundings. 

Red turned to face Sophie.

“In case it’s your first time in the field, you’re not MI5 in here,” he said sternly and she shot him a look.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she replied smartly and he chuckled at her turn of phrase.

“Follow my lead, let me do the talking,” he said again, before reaching to the small of his back and stepping from the car into the sweltering heat of the desert. He grimaced and exhaled as he opened her door for her and Dembe stepped out of the driver’s seat looking perfectly comfortable.

Red pushed his hand through his hair to pull the fringe off his face before redirecting it to the small of her back and guiding her inside the red brick structure and down a stairway in the far corner.

As they descended, the air cooled by a few degrees.

At the foot of the stairs was a thick, wooden door that Dembe knocked five times on. Like something from a movie, a small peephole opened and a pair of deep brown eyes looked out, at first confused, then sparking in recognition. The door swung open and Hassan, a stocky but jolly looking man held his arms out in greeting.

“Dembe! Red! So good to see you both!” He flailed his arms dramatically as he hugged both men, stopping when he saw the young woman in the airy, knee-length jumpsuit standing close to Red who immediately jumped into character.

“Hassan, I’d like you to meet Lily Bloom, my newest associate.”

“Associate, is that what you’re calling them these days?” Hassan laughed. Red feigned horror.

“Hassan! That’s no way to talk about a lady. She’s just joined my team, I’ve got a bit of business lined up in Monaco, target is a real Lothario and, despite my best efforts, I’m just not his type.”

Sophie cast a sideward glance at him. He really could weave a story, seemingly from nothing.

“If you don’t cut your hair soon, you will be,” Hassan replied, pointing at the damp, unruly mess on Red’s head. Red sighed, exasperated.

“Very funny. Anyway, Ms Bloom has been crying out...for the right opportunity to get her teeth into and it turns out she’s perfect for me. But I digress. Business first and time is of the essence.”

Hassan led them through from the main hallway to a comfortable underground...lair – that was the only way Sophie could describe it. Oppressive heat or not, she didn’t think she could live underground, without sunlight. She felt claustrophobic and uneasy as it was, though she knew she couldn’t show that if she were to be believable as a career criminal, or whatever he was suggesting she might be.

Hassan served a selection of tea, coffee, and beer before sitting into a chair that was, quite obviously, his and his alone. Red had decided to let Dembe speak to Hassan, in Arabic and on the way out the door, about Raji. He didn’t need MI5 knowing all of his contacts in Marrakech.

“So Red, what can I do for you? I didn’t think my business interested you...”

Hassan was in drugs. And aside from the occasional opium den or hashish pipe, Red didn’t get involved. It was too flimsy as a business, too full of players – big and small – who preyed on the innocent. He did what he had to, to survive, to thrive even. But he drew the line at pushing poison to turn a profit.

“No offense Hassan but it doesn’t. I’m actually looking for a smuggler.”

Hassan looked at him deadpan, then roared laughing.

“In Marrakech? You’d better narrow it down or you’ll be here until the millennium!” he laughed uncontrollably and even Red and Dembe saw fit to have a chuckle at their friend’s obvious amusement. Sophie allowed herself a small chuckle – she had to play the part after all.

When Red took a deep breath, Hassan stopped, knowing it was time for business.

“Ok. To be more precise, I’m looking for a people smuggler. Taking young girls off the street and selling them into the sex trade. Does that narrow it down?”

Hassan visibly, and audibly, gulped, nodding his head.

“Quite considerably. But, my friend, it also quite considerably raises your risk of mortality.”

“Or his,” Red quipped. But Hassan was not amused by his friend’s blasé tone.

“I don’t know his name, he’s known simply as the 'desert fox'.”

Red rolled his eyes, about to voice his knowledge of World War II history but he could feel Sophie tensing on the couch beside him and decided now was not the time to make fun. He told Hassan to go on.

“I don’t know anyone who’s ever met him. Some say he’s not even in Marrakech, or Morocco for that matter. But he has operatives in every city, people who hand-select the targets and put an extraction plan in place.”

Red nodded.

“And who’s the operative in Marrakech?”

Hassan took a deep breath and swapped his tea for a beer which he chugged heavily.

“His name is Kahlil Kahn. He owns the Kaholo club in Hivernage. I’m told he is hands-on in his running of it...”

“...which means he’s using it as a way to scout targets,” Red finished.

Hassan nodded and Red pursed his lips.

“How do we talk to him?”

Hassan’s eyes widened, before telling him that it would not be easy.

“The club is very exclusive. Invited guests are given wrist bands that they must wear all night or be thrown out. There are queues around the block to get in, sometimes even those on the list don’t get near the door.”

Red frowned. 

“Know anyone that can get us on the list?”

Hassan smiled and nodded, taking a delivery location from them, before standing and leaving the room. They heard a phone being picked up in the hallway and Hassan speaking in low Arabic. Red cast an inquiring look at Sophie and she nodded to tell him that she was ok. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before Hassan returned.

“Two passes will be delivered to the hotel under the name Bill Kershaw.”

“Good old Bill,” Sophie quipped and Red smirked at her.

“Hassan, my friend, I owe you one. I’ll bring cigars the next time. Unfortunately, we left Cuba in a hurry last week,” he said mysteriously as he stood. Red gave Dembe a nod as he took Sophie’s arm to lead her out.

“Something you don’t want me to hear?” she asked quietly and he tightened his grip on her arm.

“Do you speak Arabic?”

She shook her head and he smiled.

“Then no.”

She glanced back at their host as Red lead her back towards the stairs they had come in through.

“So what now?” she asked quietly.

“Looks like we’re going clubbing,” he shrugged, “I hope you brought a little black dress,” he grinned and she slapped his chest playfully before starting to climb the stairs.

*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red and Dembe do some recon ahead of their night in Kaholo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the delay in updating but I had some stuff to do that was unavoidable. Hopefully, I haven't lost people!
> 
> BL*BL*BL*BL*BL

Red and Dembe left Sophie back to her hotel where she intended to shower and regroup before getting ready for the night's excursion. In truth, it was the most fieldwork she'd had since joining MI5 and it was all off-book. Red told her he'd collect their wrist bands when he showed up to meet her that night.

As she disappeared inside the hotel, Red turned to Dembe.

"Anything on Raji?"

Dembe indicated and pulled out into the traffic.

"Hasn't been seen for days. Word was that he was following a new opportunity but he appears to have disappeared off the grid."

Red shook his head, remarking that he knew Raji's hunt for new opportunities would get him killed.

"We need a contingency," Red said finally, "Let's pay a visit to Yakub, see if he's willing to get back in the game."

Dembe nodded, before pointing to a large blocky building on the upcoming corner.

"That is Kaholo," he pointed out and Red told him to pull over. The practice was simple, they would each go around the block, in opposite directions and scope out potential access points and issues. Red was on guard as he walked, picking his way through tourists, and intently eyeing his surroundings. He noticed some emergency exit doors on the building, wondered if that might be an option, though they would need to cut through the wire fencing.

Dembe was back at the car by the time he arrived. They climbed in and Dembe started the engine.

"Fire doors," Red said quickly and Dembe nodded.

"They look old, we might be able to slide them open with a card or a thin blade."

That had been Red's thought too. He felt somewhat happier about the evening's task and sat back as Dembe drove them to Yakub's.

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Yakub was an older man in his 60s. A former gun smuggler, he had retired from that business a decade previous and now ran, in a curious departure from the norm, a tailoring business. He had no formal skills of his own but had two young, London-trained tailors, who created couture magic.

Red wasn't a suit guy but he always admired the finery on display when he had reason to visit Yakub's store.

For the second time that day, they were greeted with flair and pomp as Yakub flicked at Red's choice of shirt, gesticulated to him about his hair, and tried to guide him through the new fabrics on offer.

"A man of your wealth should have more concern about his appearance," Yakub lamented.

"I'm trying to blend in Yakub, not make the cover of GQ," Red grumbled before launching straight into business, "We were wondering if you'd seen Raji lately?"

Yakub shook his head, bowed it as though he were mourning the loss of a loved one.

"I fear that Raji has got himself into something deeper than he can swim," Yakub remarked and Red grimaced, telling him that he did too.

"...which is why I'm coming to you. I need someone I can trust to oversee logistics for me. Three times a week, very straightforward, what do you say?"

Yakub looked pained, glancing around at the store, before nodding his head.

"I have you to thank for all of this so I will help you. Providing it is only temporary," He held up one pointed, determined finger. Red nodded, telling him that he was already thinking of a replacement but would need to lay some groundwork.

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Red called Sophie from reception that evening while simultaneously collecting the wrist bands which had, true to Hassan's word, been delivered under his pseudonym. The hotel didn't even blink at the fact that he wasn't a guest, just handed over the envelope with a smile.

He sat on a nearby chair, ankle crossed over his knee as he waited for Sophie, wondering what kind of visual delight she would assault him with tonight.

Red had bought a short sleeve white linen shirt in Yakub's that fit nicely over the navy slacks he paired it with. On their way back, as dusk approached, Dembe had stopped with a wire cutter to punch some holes in the fence behind Kaholo. Red just hoped they'd still be there later on.

There had been no further info from Dembe's contacts about Sophie, something that made Red worry slightly and wonder if he shouldn't just cut his losses and walk out the door.

Even if that had been a genuine consideration (which it wasn't) there was no way he could have walked anywhere when he saw her step off the elevator across from him. His eyes widened and he was sure he lost the ability to blink.

She wore a deep emerald green halter-neck dress that fell to just above her knees. He could see that the fabric sat low around her sides meaning that it was substantially bare at the back.

She was standing in front of him before he realized he hadn't stood or spoken.

"Will I make the cut?" she asked cheekily and that dragged him from his reverie. He sprung to his feet, his eyes running over her form once.

"You'll do," he joked and she swatted him on the chest again, smiling as he guided her out the front door. It didn't feel like they were about to go hunt for a human trafficker. It felt, for all the world, like the beginning of an evening of promise.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between Red and Sophie as they attempt to gain access to the exclusive Kaholo club...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting more into the nitty-gritty of the plot in the coming chapters. There's a little bit of an obvious trope here but it butted in during writing so I ran with it...
> 
> Would love to hear readers' thoughts on what they think of this - I don't think there's a huge amount of Red/OC fic out there...

The queue was already rounding the first corner when Dembe pulled up a few hundred yards from Kaholo. Red and Sophie, who insisted that she was using the second admission, were already wearing their bands but with the number of people in the line, it looked like they would be waiting for hours. 

“Plan B?” Dembe shrugged and Red nodded his head.

“Most definitely.”

“What’s Plan B?” Sophie asked as the two men stepped out of the car, conversing quietly between them. Red grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her towards the back of the queue which, fortuitously, was right at the fence they had cut earlier. A cursory glance told Red that the boundary was still unsealed. That was a spot of luck.

He smiled briefly at Sophie as they stood in the queue.

“Follow my lead,” he said quietly and she groaned, telling him that if he said that one more time...

She didn’t get to finish her sentence. A man bumped her as he stumbled past, gasping and grasping at people’s arms for help. He pulled two of them from the wall towards a parked car before collapsing and starting to convulse. The crowd in the queue began shouting for help and stepping closer to see what was happening.

Red tugged Sophie’s arm and, after a quick glance around, pushed her through the hole in the fence before following her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the building, out of any spotlights that might have alerted the angry crowd outside to their deception.

So far, so good. 

They reached the exit door and Red stepped close to have a look at the seal. 

“Keep watch,” he told her sternly and she positioned herself in such a way that she could see but not necessarily be seen from the road. The commotion was still going on and two security guards were now helping the man to his feet. She found out later that it had been Dembe, creating a distraction to allow them access to this alleyway.

Red had taken a blade from his pocket and was trying to slide it between the two doors, poking for the quick release catch.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as the blade slipped out of the gap. She grimaced as she looked down at him, suddenly aware of how close he was to her bare skin. She felt herself flush slightly – she’d put it down to the humidity of course.

A sudden shout and the distant sound of wire rattling.

“Red, we’ve got company,” Sophie told him quickly.

“This isn’t working,” Red tried again to no avail, “Does the guard look culturally sensitive?”

“What? What kind of question is that?” she hissed, her eyes darting between him and the alleyway. Red spotted her wide eyes and caught sight of the guard, about 20 meters away from them.

“Never mind, we’ll take our chances,” he stood and locked eyes with her, “Follow my lead, ok?”

She was about to launch into an argument when he pulled her tight to his chest and kissed her. Shocked, she froze until he teased her lips with his tongue and she realized that, number one, this was something they had to sell for their own good and, number two, she really wanted to kiss him. She opened her mouth and let their tongues entwine, whimpering when she heard a soft moan from him. 

His hands fell to her hips and he pushed her back against the wall, his hips grinding into hers as their kisses became more and more passionate.

When they broke, breathless, Red latched his lips onto her neck, one hand sliding from her hip onto her ass as he groaned into her skin, the smell of her perfume intoxicating him, the balmy softness of her skin feeling like silk under his lips. He could feel his body reacting to her proximity and, as much as he would like to just continue what they were doing, he hoped for both of their sakes that they were about to be interrupted.

A shout suddenly broke them apart. Looking punch drunk, Red looked at the guard, a gigantic beast of a man who made Dembe look like a pygmy. The man spoke quickly in Arabic and Red shrugged, shook his head, and held up his hands all at once.

“English?” he asked weakly.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t be down here?”

Red looked at Sophie and then back at the guard, and then laughed good-naturedly, pointing at the door. The guard peered at him, a mixture of confused and disgusted.

“I’m sorry. My wife and I got locked out. She saw this door and...well, we’re trying for a baby and, apparently this is the optimum time to get pregnant. Like, right this minute. I swear, my friend, we are living second-by-second on her calendar. Some days,” he laughed to himself, really getting involved in the story, “Oh my god, some days, I come home from work, I barely get in the door when BANG she’s got me against the wall. I’m not complaining, but I’ll tell you what, you guys might have three wives but believe me, I’m barely able for the one that I have!”

The guard looked utterly perplexed. He looked from Red to Sophie and back. Red reached his hand around Sophie’s waist, pulling her close to him.

“What do you say, pal, do us a favor and let us back in? We’ll behave, I promise.”

The guard, either charmed by their story or just plain confused pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket and said something in Arabic. A moment later, the door swung open and another equally beefy looking guard stood aside to let them in.

Red thanked both of them and grasped Sophie’s hand in his, pulling her along the corridor towards the sound of dance music. As soon as they were out of sight of the guard, Red stopped and leaned back against the wall, exhaling a breath that felt like he’d been holding it for a year. 

He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes in relief until he was opening them in surprise at the feel of her body pasted against his.

“Are you insane?” she murmured in his ear. To the outside world, they looked like a couple whispering sweet nothings to each other.

“I don’t know, what does it say in my MI5 file?”

She looked at him.

“Was that the only excuse you could come up with?”

He exhaled again, his heart rate only starting to return to normal.

“Well, when you’re caught necking in a Muslim country with highly stringent public indecency laws, yes, it was the first thing that sprang to mind.”

She raised her eyebrows in a look of disbelief – lucky they were down a dark alley or they could have been arrested. That would have been all she needed.

“Besides, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” he added in a low tone that made her shiver.

“I’m still shaking,” she pointed out. He smirked, sliding his hands onto her hips and letting one run up along her spine in a very deliberate move.

“You’re shaking, but not all of it’s because of fear,” he said pointedly. 

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, each daring the other to break. His hormones were raging, he wanted nothing more than to whirl this woman around and let his body mold into hers against the wall. But time was of the essence and they still had a lot of work to do.

Having said that, he couldn’t help edging closer and placing a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. He felt them open for him and he deepened the kiss very briefly before pulling away. He smirked and jerked his head in the direction of the main body of the club.

She gulped and nodded, twisting her fingers between his and, for the first time without annoyance, following his lead.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update. It was nice to get a couple of new reviews for the last chapter. Any other feedback would be equally appreciated!

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As they made their way towards the bar, Red took in their surroundings: the booths positioned around the dance floor, a slight platform to one end where people could spy on the revelers from a height, and a stairway in the far corner leading to what looked like a gangway and private area. Red couldn't see up into that area but he expected it was where Khalil Khan would be. With a hand at the small of her back, he pushed Sophie towards the bar. She looked at him curiously.

"I need a drink," he said firmly and she nodded, sidling through the crowd to the bar.

She ordered. A scotch for him, and a mojito for herself. Red reached past her with cash when the bartender returned. She turned to face him and held up her glass.

"To a successful..." she held her hands up in consternation.

"...wild goose chase," Red quipped and she chuckled as they tapped glasses and drank. Red took a good mouthful of the scotch. He didn't usually get flustered but he was out of his comfort zone here. He usually walked into rooms knowing everything and sometimes more than what his opponent did. It was the first time he'd flown somewhat blind in a long time.

"We need to blend in," Red muttered in her ear, making it again look like the lingering contact between an enamored couple.

"Is that why your hand is on my ass?" she asked pointedly and he caught her eye with a smirk.

"Oh that's just for me," he smirked, "Guards can't see through crowds," he added smugly and she stifled a disbelieving laugh.

"Isn't being undercover fun?" he quipped with a wicked smile, before picking up his glass and taking her hand. He picked his way through the crowd, coming to a stop at the bottom of the prominent stairway. Another beefy guard stood, looking mean and dangerous at the foot of the stairs.

"Need to speak to Khalil Khan," Red said with a tone of authority. The guard looked at him as if he were something he might scrape off his shoe.

"You cops?" he spat and Red raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like a cop?" he replied indignantly but when he saw the guard considering his answer, he added: "Don't answer that. I'm not a cop. I've got a business proposition for your boss."

The guard raised his eyebrows and pulled a walkie from the back of his pants. Without taking his eyes off Red and Sophie, he walked up a few steps and spoke in Arabic to whoever was on comms upstairs. He listened and stepped back down.

"Mr Khan is not accepting visitors," he said firmly. Red held the guard's gaze. He hadn't wanted to play this card but had expected to have to do so.

"Not even if it's Raymond Reddington who wants to do business?"

"Who's Raymond Reddington?" the guard shrugged.

"Mr Khan will know who I am," Red said, still holding the guard's gaze. The guard pulled the walkie again and spoke into it. He listened and nodded to nobody in particular.

"Mr Khan is with a guest at the moment. He will see you after. I will send someone to the bar for you when he is available."

Red nodded and thanked the guard, finding Sophie's hand and pulling her towards the bar. She still had half of her drink left but knew that it was more important than ever to play the part now. She stepped in front of Red and found a spot at the bar. She didn't flinch when she felt his body slot into the back of hers.

"I really think you're taking advantage of this situation," she said jokingly and he chuckled, unable to resist bringing a hand up to pull back her hair and nip at her earlobe.

"They've got to believe we're cool and aloof, that this is no big deal, we do it all the time... What better way to prove that than by making it look like I'm just _aching to_ fuck you right here and now against this bar..." he murmured in her ear. She took a breath at the sound of his words. The tone of his voice, hell just his voice in general, wrapping around such a vivid image caused a gush of heat between her legs.

He was definitely taking advantage but she was finding more and more that she didn't care.

"You're enjoying this," she accused, taking the decision, despite her better judgment, to subtly push her ass back against his groin. The music was loud but she still managed to hear his sharp intake of breath and a short, low moan as he exhaled.

"This exact moment? Yes, very much so. The whole process, maybe a little, but I'm usually more prepared for any meetings I attend. Cold-calling is something I try to avoid," he said, lowering his mouth to the spot where her neck met her shoulder and kissing it. She handed him a fresh scotch which drew his mouth away from her skin.

They stood like that for a moment before Sophie twisted in his hold to face him, eyes glinting with something promising.

"You're an incredible story-teller," she said finally and he grinned, stepping closer to her again, their breaths mingling in proximity.

"Mmm-hmm," he muttered as his eyes wandered along her form again, "It's all about illusion. For instance, those guards right now believe that I'm standing here whispering all the filthy and, in this country, probably illegal things I want to do with and to you when we get home tonight...They're noticing the way your whole body has tensed up with want, the way my fingers are stroking the skin of your lower back, the shallowness of both our breathing. To any onlooker, we look like we might spontaneously combust at any given moment. Which begs one question..." he trailed off, feeling his own breath come in gulps, the skin of her back warm under his hand as he trailed his fingers back and forth.

"Which is?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes closed as she tried to calm her raging body.

"Exactly how much of this is an act," he stated confidently. Her eyes opened and locked with his. His mouth was open, his tongue prodding against the back of his top teeth. Her mouth opened but she failed to find words. He smirked and was leaning in towards her when there was a harsh, unceremonious tap on his shoulder. He startled, his arm stretching around her waist as he turned towards the offending hand.

"Mr Khan will see you now," yet another guard told him, pointing towards the stairs and Red nodded, saying it had been quick. He took a breath and guided Sophie along with him. The guard stopped them again.

"Just you, not her," he said with the hint of a lascivious smirk. Red shook his head.

"She's key to my operation and proposal. She comes with me or I go elsewhere."

The guard seemed to think about it for a minute, then stepped aside. It obviously wasn't something that needed clearing from above. Red grasped Sophie's hand and began to climb the stairs.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red and Sophie strike a deal with Khalil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who've reviewed so far. I must admit, I was starting to wonder whether I would bother to continue posting but the two latest ones have given me a push to continue for another while. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter. It drives the plot forward a good distance, though I admit I prefer writing the shippy stuff!

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They were met by a woman at the top of the stairs who asked them to follow her along the gangway. Red felt Sophie’s hand grip his tighter and he squeezed it in reassurance, though he felt nothing of his usual arrogance or flair.

Khalil Khan was a tall, thin man with an almost sickly look. He was pale and wore a tight white shirt that emphasized his rakishness. He stood when they entered his domain.

“Raymond Reddington, in the flesh, in my club.”

“Like what you’ve done with the place,” Red said, offering a handshake, “This is my associate, Ms Lily Bloom.”

Khalil also shook her hand though seemed largely unimpressed by her beauty. Perhaps she was too old, Red thought to himself. They sat and Khalil offered drinks which Red declined on their behalf – he’d learned that lesson the hard way back when he first embraced this lifestyle.

“I’m told you have a business proposition for me?” Khalil said with a hint of smarminess that Red immediately disliked. But he smiled and played his part, nodding his head.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I want to invest in your operation.” He could feel Sophie tensing beside him and he tapped her leg with his as a warning to stay calm. Khalil stared at him, mulling the notion over in his head.

“I was under the impression that Raymond Reddington didn’t approve of ‘my operation’,” he said pointedly and Red nodded his head.

“I admit that I’ve found it...morally objectionable in the past. But I’m in need of some strings in my bow and I see a lot of opportunity in this business – for me and you.”

He felt his stomach churn slightly as he spoke. But he’d known that this would have to be his route in, these guys weren’t going to dutifully tell him what he wanted to know without some incentive. Luckily Sophie seemed to be playing along, he had worried that she might blow their cover but she was obviously sharp enough to recognize his play. He felt obnoxious for thinking that she wouldn’t.

“And just what opportunity is there for me? You are wanted in every country in the world, aligning myself with you...that’s a risk I don’t need to take...” Khalil’s lip curved in the beginning of a sneer that he reined in at the last minute.

“Ah but you do,” Red replied quickly and Khalil frowned.

“Explain.”

Red took a deep breath and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, brushing a hand along the outside of Sophie’s thigh as he did.

“You run your logistics through Mercer Browne. Don’t act surprised, I was a spy, I was paid to know things and it’s in my interest to know them now. What you don’t know is that a Mercer Browne ship was impounded in Valencia tonight – guns, refugees, contraband – you name it, it was on that ship. By the time you wake up tomorrow morning, Mercer Browne’s ships, stocks and assets will be frozen by Interpol, leaving you with you plenty of buyers, plenty of merchandise, and no way of getting it out of the country.”

Khalil’s eyes widened and he beckoned the woman who’d met them at the stairs to his side. He whispered something in her ear and she scampered away.

“And I suppose you have a logistics operation out of Marrakech?” Khalil asked sardonically.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Truth be told, I was tempted to shut it down, it just didn’t have the footfall, more trouble than it was worth but...with Mercer Browne out of the picture, it might just be about to bear fruit,” he said with a smug grin.

Khalil bit his lip in thought so Red continued to hammer the nail in.

“I must say, jamming a ship with so much contraband is a real rookie move, I would have expected better from someone in the game as long as those guys. If I were them, I'd be buried in the deepest, darkest underground lair I could find because the type of people who are going to be looking for them right about now... Sheesh...” He shuddered and raised his eyebrows for dramatic effect.

Khalil looked up suddenly to his assistant who was simply nodding her head. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Ok Mr Reddington. Let’s say we have a deal, what would you need?”

Here we go, Red thought to himself. He shrugged, feigning indifference.

“When’s the next shipment supposed to go out?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Red nodded, pursing his lips as if deep in thought, ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll have to arrange some re-routing,” he lied, again feigning deep concentration, “But it’ll be doable. Might be a bit tight but my logistics man is a magician. Literally, performs these outrageous card tricks with his eyes closed. I stacked a deck with nothing but twos and threes one day, and he still found a Joker. Fitting really...”

Khalil was glaring at him but Red was starting to enjoy himself. Getting the upper hand always gave him a kind of inner peace that manifested itself to the outside world as undisguised and unabashed glee.

“I’ll have my associate Dembe run some paperwork to you tomorrow. If we can stall loading until the last possible moment, the likelihood of inspection falls dramatically – these guys have schedules to keep and most ports have paid off authorities to ensure it’s kept that way.”

Khalil nodded and agreed that the timeline would be possible.

“Oh, one other thing...” Red mused suddenly, “What’s the age range? Of the merchandise?”

Once again, he felt Sophie tense up beside him and he sat back in his seat, bringing his arm behind to draw soothing circles on her bare back with his finger. He needed her to stay calm.

Khalil shrugged, “Anywhere from 15 up to 22, 23, younger sometimes, though the demand there is huge so we try to make that an even more exclusive catch. If they look young and innocent, that’s what clients go for...”

Red nodded his head quickly, afraid that his grimace would give him away if not. He asked how clients selected their merchandise.

“We ship once a month. In between that, we’re like Macy’s. We send order catalogs,” he grinned and Red forced himself to let out an amused guffaw, saying “Well, what do you know...”

Red paused for a moment, before asking, “How would I go about acquiring one of those catalogs?”

Khalil frowned and pointed curiously at Red who shook his head frantically.

“Oh no, no, no, not me. But I’ve got a business acquaintance who I’m trying to turn into a business partner and he’s got... certain proclivities, shall we say...”

Khalil nodded in understanding, “Give your name and address to Elena on your way out, I’ll see that one gets delivered to you first thing tomorrow. If you like the look of anything, there’ll be a direct line listed in the package.”

Red nodded and smiled, reaching his hand out to shake with Khalil again. The Moroccan didn’t release his hand however and Red frowned at him. Khalil’s eyes shot to Sophie.

“What about her?”

Red opened his mouth wide, feigning surprise.

“Oh my goodness, yes. I almost forgot the best part. Lily here runs a modeling agency in London – first-timers mostly, about one-in-ten actually make it into the industry but we’ve known each other for years and she’s open to collaborating with some local photographers here for international shoots that might prove...fruitful, shall we say?”

There was a dangerous glint in Khalil’s eye that transformed into nothing short of an evil grin.

“We are always looking to diversify. It will be good to have you on board Ms Bloom.”

Sophie chuckled and nodded her head, lifting a hand and dropping it on Red’s thigh, higher than what would be considered a friendly touch, “Yes, I’ve been looking for an opportunity to sink my teeth into and it’s...practically impossible to say no to Red.”

“Yes, we noticed that you two seem quite taken with each other,” he replied disinterestedly. Red smirked and moved to stand. He’d learned not to outstay a welcome – also the hard way. The three shook hands again and Red gave his details to Khalil’s associate as they headed for the stairs. He watched as Khalil beckoned her again and he had no doubt that the catalog wouldn’t take long to be delivered.

He guided Sophie down the stairs and exhaled. It felt like he finally had the chance to breathe again.

“I need a drink,” he muttered in her ear and she nodded in agreement.

*


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red and Sophie finally give in to their mutual attraction...

They were back in ‘blend in’ mode but had managed to find an empty booth to keep up their pretense in. Red stretched an arm across the back of the booth and she slotted into his side with little in the way of discomfort.

He looked at her suddenly.

“I’m sorry,” he said and she looked at him quizzically, “That can’t have been easy to listen to, in truth it was hard to even say. But I knew that, given who I am, I had to go with a proposal or we’d be dead in the alley right now.”

She was nodding her head.

“It came as a bit of a shock but...I caught on to what you were doing. What I’d like to know is how you knew about his shipping company being seized...”

Red smirked and took a mouthful of his scotch.

“Well, it would have been very disappointing if I’d been wrong seeing as I was the one who tipped off the Spanish authorities,” he shrugged and she shook her head and laughed.

“It’s no wonder you’ve been on the lam so long. How could anyone keep up with you...” she mused, sipping her drink, becoming very aware that he was staring at her. Steeling herself, she looked up and held his gaze. The heat between them was intoxicating.

“I think, Ms Wilkins, you could probably get a...handle...on me,” he said suggestively and she smirked – still they didn’t break eye contact. She pursed her lips and shifted closer to him.

“So what do the guards think is happening in this booth right now?” she asked in a low voice, catching her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that made Red want to pull her into his lap right here and now. He finally broke eye contact to take another mouthful of his scotch before turning back to her and, mirroring her move, shifted closer to her, his arm across the back of the booth dropping to let his hand graze across the bare skin of her shoulder.

“They’re thinking that it’s just about that time of night...You want me, I want you. But both of us are too polite to say ‘screw this, let’s go’. Your entire body is tingling with desire so intense that it’s making you shiver, and if I feel your body grind against me one more time I fear that I might embarrass myself, something I haven’t done since I was 15. Of course, all of this tension can be...worked out. If you just come home with me...”

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“That’s what the guards think?” she joked and he laughed.

“That was more my internal monologue. The guards are probably thinking, ‘those two should just fuck already’.”

Again, the harshness of his language sent a jolt through her that reminded her that, no matter what, this man was dangerous. He was a wanted criminal in every country on earth and here she was, contemplating whether she was going to go to bed with him or not. She was reminded of their conversation last night, about blurred lines and how things weren’t always as they seemed.

Her sudden trip on her train of thought seemed to derail him.

“Another drink?” he asked in a resigned tone and, repercussions be-damned, she made her decision.

She trailed a hand into his thick shock of hair, grasping tightly, and pulled his lips to hers for a blistering, heady kiss – all teeth and tongues, moans and whimpers.

“Screw this, let’s go,” she said with a grin and he laughed as he hauled her to her feet.

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It took them another fifteen minutes to get out of the club, Red taking the opportunity to push her against every flat vertical surface they passed by, and Sophie almost, _almost,_ losing any sense of decorum entirely by thinking about pulling him into an empty bathroom.

He was painfully hard now and too punch drunk, and perhaps actual drunk, to care how that might look to an outsider. His slacks were restrictive enough to allow him to save some face in public. The thought briefly crossed his mind that Dembe would disapprove but he washed it away by pulling Sophie’s body back against his, and planting a kiss on the base of her neck as they found their way onto the street.

Dutiful as ever, Dembe was sitting in the car, still parked in its original spot. Red grabbed Sophie around the waist and strode purposefully towards it, opening the back door to allow her in, then climbing in behind her, his arm stretched across the top of the seat, hand delving into her hair, his fingers tangling in her tresses.

“I see you’ve had fun. But have you had success?” Dembe asked in an even tone.

Red chuckled at his friend’s remark, sliding his lips over Sophie’s earlobe once before reason took over and he faced forward, not wanting to give his friend an eyeful after he sat waiting all night for them.

“Very successful Dembe. Everything is going according to plan. We’ve got some work to do tomorrow but right now, I think it’s celebration time.”

He jerked slightly when he felt Sophie’s hand on his thigh. High on his thigh. And curling to the inside of it.

Although he had an idea of the answer, Dembe still asked, “The hotel or...”

“No,” Red said firmly. No further instruction was needed.

Dembe nodded, knowing that tonight would be a night for his earplugs, even though he was a floor below Red. On the few occasions that his friend gave in to his base desires, they were never quiet nights. He kept his thoughts to himself though, reasoning that Red needed his own ways of exorcising demons.

Red felt Sophie’s hand edge further up the inside of his thigh and he swallowed a huge lump in his throat, exhaling carefully so as not to moan at the eventual feeling of her fingers stroking him through his pants. He felt his stomach tighten in response and he ran his hand down her bare back, desperate to feel her skin.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game teasing me like that,” he whispered, letting his tongue flick out against the shell of her ear. He caught the smug smile on her face and longed to wipe it off with a breathtaking kiss.

“You said it yourself, I’m just getting a handle on you,” she whispered back, twisting her tongue into his ear, making him bite his lip and close his eyes in deep concentration.

Marrakech traffic was not on his side – they were gridlocked and he shifted in his seat, suddenly wishing he had sat in the front. Her touch intensified and his whole body tensed. He turned his head to whisper in her ear.

“If you keep torturing me, I’m going to have to torture you. And out of the two of us, who do you think is more skilled in that practice?”

She looked at him smugly, “I wrote the definitive research paper on detainment camps across the globe,” she said with a hint of pomp. He nodded his head, a sharp intake of breath as she squeezed him again.

“Good for you. I’ve been _in_ most of them.”

Their eyes locked and she stifled a laugh, shaking her head at the fact that he had bested her again. He held her gaze for a moment until she shifted her hand again and this time he did moan. Audibly.

“Dembe, is there any way of getting through this fucking traffic?”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two, possibly three chapters will earn the E rating, I promise!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red and Sophie give in to their attraction, in explosive fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! We're finally hitting the reason why this fic is M-rated! This is a long chapter - I could have cut it down to smaller pieces but it would have been scrappy and horribly short. There's a little bit of angst here as well. Please read and review, it really does help to encourage me to continue writing it!

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Dembe, to his credit, had weaved through some side streets and managed to get them to the apartment within about twenty minutes. But it had been twenty minutes of shuddering determination for Red who refused to let his body betray him in the back seat of a car, despite his partner’s best efforts.

He was wound tight and when Dembe pulled in at the apartment, suggesting they get out while he went to park the car, Red’s foot was on the ground before the vehicle had stopped moving. He grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her after him, marching them both to the door while Dembe watched them go inside before driving away.

He managed to park just a few meters down the street but there was no way he was going in there for at least an hour.

Inside, the door had barely latched shut when Red had Sophie pinned against it, his hands grasping her wrists to keep them from touching him.

“And people call me evil,” he rasped in her ear, grinding his lower half against hers, “If that’s the kind of torture they’re teaching in MI5 maybe I should turn myself in...” he groaned when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. She launched herself off the door, pressing her body against his, pushing him backward, and making it clear that she wanted a change in location.

Somehow, they made it up the stairs and into the master bedroom where Red kicked the door shut as his hands struggled with the knot on the halter of her dress. He winced when he suddenly found himself pinned against the door. He looked at her in surprise.

“Well, you did tell the guard I liked to get you against the wall,” she said seductively and he exhaled loudly, kissing her again and turning them so that she was against the door. He slid a hand down to just above her knee, bringing it back up the inside of her thighs and finding what felt like a tiny scrap of fabric covering her center. He tapped his finger against the soaked material and she mewled into his mouth at the sensation. Grinning, he twisted his fingers through the material and ripped it, discarding it somewhere behind him before replacing it with his fingers.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned in her ear, “How long have you been like this?”

He dipped his middle finger just inside her, getting an idea of her tightness and causing his hips to jerk at the sound of her indecently sexy moan. She swallowed a gulp before answering.

“Since the alley,” she admitted and he clenched his eyes shut at the thought that she had been wet for him for the entirety of their performance in the nightclub. He was glad he hadn’t known or they’d, again, probably be dead in that alley.

He dipped his finger deeper into her wetness again before drawing it back up her folds to her clit, loving the sound of her whimper as he did. The feel of her hands on his belt buckle tipped him over the edge. He had to have her, right now.

Hurriedly, and clumsily, he unzipped his pants and she helped to push his slacks and boxers down his hips but not before he pulled a condom from his pocket. She was about to tell him that it wasn’t necessary but he already had it on and was lifting her leg over his hip to line up with her inviting wetness.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised in a question, _are you sure_ , and she nodded her head, bringing one hand into his hair to pull him in for a bruising kiss. He pushed into her, hard but slower than he would have thought possible given how far gone he was. He paused for a minute, giving her the chance to adjust to his size before starting to move, quickly setting a punishing pace that had her gasping and crying out incoherently. His hand gripped her thigh hard enough to ensure that there would be bruises tomorrow.

It became fast and frantic, any tenderness they might have exercised abandoned to raw, animalistic desire. He lost his rhythm at one point and was quickly corrected by her hand grasping his ass desperate for him to go harder, deeper, faster, instructions that she also whimpered in his ear.

They were like possessed beings, pulling and pushing each other, driving each other on to some inimitable reward.

Red could feel his balls tightening – in truth he was amazed he’d managed to last this long – and he brought his free hand down between them, finding her clit with his thumb and pressing against it lightly. The motion of his thrusts meant his thumb tapped against her each time he withdrew and suddenly he felt her tightening around him, felt her body begin to spasm, and her moans in his ear became guttural as she pleaded with him not to stop.

He delivered one final, long and hard thrust that made both of them clench and freeze in each other’s arms. Then he withdrew and repeated that move again. On the third pass, his hips jerked of their own doing and he came long and hard while her head fell back against the door as she howled her release, her body shaking in spasm and the one leg that was, miraculously, still holding her up finally faltering and threatening to give way.

He caught her as he withdrew from her and guided them both to the floor, she leaning against the door breathless, him on his knees in front of her in a similar state.

They sat like that for a moment, neither looking at the other, both trying to get their breathing in check.

When Red finally looked up, shifting sideways to spare his knees from locking, he suddenly felt self-conscious, looking at her, breathless, against the door, still dressed except for the scrap of underwear he’d relieved her of in the same way a caveman would have done. He hung his head, then disposing of the condom in the nearby bin, tucked himself back into his boxers and slacks, and pulled himself to his feet, buttoning his pants before reaching out a hand and helping her up.

Their eyes didn’t meet as they stood opposite each other and he grimaced. He knew regret when he saw it. He took a deep breath, knowing that he’d have to say something.

“Do you want some water?” he eventually hit on, truly at a loss for any other words.

“Please,” she said, without looking up. He bit his top lip between his teeth and nodded. He slipped out through the bedroom door, closing it quietly after him.

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Sophie wondered if she could creep out the front door without him noticing but dismissed that as a terrible idea when she considered the neighborhood they were in. She berated herself as she moved to sit at the end of the bed.

She’d wanted him, she wouldn’t argue with that. But he’d stood up afterward and buttoned his pants in what she could only construe as a dismissive response. She ran her hands over her face, her fingers pinching the corners of her eyes.

She shook her head. She was an MI5 agent for crying out loud! She was good at her job, she’d shown promise, she was putting in the hard graft, and had a career path lined out ahead of her. And for what?

To let herself down by becoming a notch on a notorious criminal’s bedpost? By letting him fuck her against a door...

Groaning in frustration and disappointment, she leaned her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands.

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Red cursed at himself the whole way down the stairs. Thankfully Dembe had either stayed away or was locked tight in his room with zero intention of re-emerging that night.

He walked through to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water from the stash that he and Dembe had packed into the fridge a few days earlier. Red closed the fridge door and leaned his forehead against it.

He was a criminal. He’d done some dubious things and he’d dropped everything and run out on people before. But he’d never let his self-control falter in such a way as he had tonight. They’d both climaxed but he felt ashamed of the manner in which it had happened.

He wasn’t opposed to a quickie and had had plenty of them in the past but, despite the nature of his life, they weren’t his style.

When he’d left her hotel earlier that evening, he’d harbored visions of seducing her as the night had gone on, tentative touches and whispered promises leading to a slow and steady assault on her senses and every inch of her body with his. The incident in the alley had sparked a frenzied chain reaction of events that had lead to this – the aftermath of what should have been an immensely satisfying experience instead giving way to shame and self-deprecation.

He swallowed and turned back towards the door, water in hand. He climbed the stairs wearily and quietly opened the bedroom door.

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She was looking out the window when she heard the door open and close again quietly. She didn’t need to look to know that he was just standing, adrift, inside the door, the condensation on the bottles soaking his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I’m not usually...”

“Neither am I,” she cut him off and he took a step closer to her as she turned to face him.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he said incredulously, reaching out to hand her a bottle of water.

“No. But my point still stands,” she said shrugging. He nodded and took a deep breath as she opened the water and took a long gulp from it. His continued to soak his hand. They stood opposite each other, silently, for what felt like forever. An invisible impasse, about a meter wide, lodged between them.

Finally, she sighed, “Do you want me to leave?”

His eyes widened at her choice of question, “Uh, no, I mean...do you want to leave?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, I just...got the impression that you would prefer that I did...”

Red’s mouth opened and closed again. Wires had been crossed somewhere and his addled brain was struggling to pinpoint where. He stepped closer and caught one of her hands in his.

“I...impression...what?” he didn’t even know how to ask the question, his eyebrows so high that they’d disappeared into his ridiculous hairline.

She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, glancing back towards the door. She stifled a laugh as she looked up at him where he stood.

“Red, you just fucked me against a door then stood up and buckled your pants like a frat boy going back to a party,” she grimaced and he closed his eyes, mouth catching flies, as he finally realized how his actions could be viewed completely the wrong way.

“Oh boy,” he muttered, opening his eyes to look at her. He took a deep breath and crouched down in front of her, keeping his balance by placing his hands on the bed on either side of her. He exhaled and looked up at her.

“I felt ashamed. And I thought you would too,” he said with a wince, catching the obvious misconception in this sentence, “Not ashamed of being with you – my god, I’m not insane – but ashamed of my lack of self-control, I didn’t want that for you, for...us.”

She looked perplexed, “So, what... We both wanted it but now we...didn’t?”

He shook his head and shifted onto his knees, bringing one hand to rest on her knee.

“I don’t regret that it happened. I regret the _way_ it happened. Sophie...my life being what it is, I don’t sleep with a lot of women, that’s just the way it is. But when I do, I like to do it right. What happened just now...” he pursed his lips in thought, shook his head, “...was not right.”

Her eyes locked on his as he considered his next words.

“I think you’re an extraordinary woman,” he said, bringing his free hand up to brush the hair out of her face, “Smart, determined and devastatingly beautiful, and I wanted, if you were amenable, to spend the whole of tonight worshipping you. Slowly and entirely and, and I mean this in the best way possible, ruining you for any man that comes after me.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, calculated breath. She knew she should leave, knew she’d let this go further than it should have, knew that those blurred boundaries she’d worried about so often in work were nothing compared to the personal dilemma she had created for herself in each and every action she’d taken since arriving in Marrakech.

But she was finding herself inexplicably drawn to this man. This complicated individual who, in spite of the multiple government dossiers, was not as black and white as they made him out to be. There were shades of grey, she chuckled to herself, shades of Red.

She finally looked him in the eye, seeing the vulnerability there and a hint of something else. Loneliness perhaps? That was reasonable to assume...

“You really are a smooth talker,” she said warmly and he smiled at her before taking a risk and dropping his head to place a kiss on the inside of her knee. He felt her muscles tense beneath his lips and he smiled. He turned his head, resting his cheek against her skin, and looked up at her.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said, shaking his head. He closed his eyes at the feel of her hand sliding through his hair, over his scalp.

“Good,” she said, tightening her grip, “Because I quite like the sound of ruination...”

He smirked and she guided his head up to hers, meeting his lips in a soft, tender kiss.

BL*BL*BL*BL*BL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a slow burn to get to this point and to a certain extent it's still slow burning. This took on a life of its own when I was writing it and, as I finished the first section I kind of hit on the idea of the shame of it being such a frantic, albeit satisfying encounter. Maybe it's stupid = feel free to let me know in the comments :)


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